No one likes a drunk Hawke
by wunderwolfer
Summary: Can Isabela convince Aveline to join the other ladies of DA2 for a girl's night out? Will Merrill finally experience the thrill of a Kirkwall mugging and can Hawke make it home before one of her friend's has to hold her hair back? No pairings just some friendly flirting.
1. Chapter 1

A prequel to my story 'Comforting Shadows' but you don't have to read that to read this.

No pairings just some friendly flirting. This story was inspired by those nights out at University that usually ended in memory loss. I also use the category Humour very, very loosely.

**Warning**: Dragon age 2 end of Act 1 **spoilers** and some **bad language** (well they're drunk what do you expect!).

**Rated M:** For adult themes and bad language but no smut just poor innuendos.

Hope you like it

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Aveline strode into the Hanged man. It was late and as she expected most of the clientele we're either roaring drunk or unconscious. She stepped over a passed out individual and paused at the doorway surveying the darkened tavern and its patrons. Every night she seemed to end up here or at the Blooming Rose, breaking up fights, investigating crimes, arresting crooks. To her it was a pit of excessive debauchery, villainy and not only did it look like the dumping ground for the scummy underbelly of Kirkwall but it smelt like it too. She hated this place and longed for the moment when her nose would stop registering the collective smell of alcohol, piss and vomit that seemed to constantly hang in the air of this dive.

'_How could anyone drink here?'_

Her question was unwittingly answered as she spied the reigning Queen of Corruption. Isabela was sitting at a table near the back of the tavern holding court with her drunken subjects. Her mischievous eyes were alight with laughter as she spoke to her captivated audience, a drink in one hand the other soothingly rubbing the back of the blonde who had passed out on the table beside her. '_Another drunken floozy for her to boast about tomorrow,_' she ignored the very small, very quiet voice in her head (her liberal self) that told her she was jealous of Isabela's ability to charm and enthral people and instead shook her head at the pirate's lack of discretion. She narrowed her eyes as she moved closer preparing for their inevitable and almost customary bickering.

"...so I said, you're not getting that thing anywhere near me without the without the proper docking permit," Isabela finished with a wink. Her attentive crowd erupted into raucous laughter slapping each other on the back in unified delight. Noticing her approach Isabela raised her drink to the warrior, "Guard Captain Aveline to what do we owe this great pleasure?" she greeted loudly and the crowd around the pirate's table immediately dispersed. The sudden disappearance of the Isabela's fanclub at the Guard Captain's name was nothing short of magical, as if the very mention of her status was a part of a ritualistic disappearing spell. Aveline scowled at their quickly retreating backs '_damn criminals,' _she though with distaste. Aveline rolled her eyes at the rogue and folded her arms over her chest. "You know full well why I am here. What do you want?"

"Well I'm very glad you asked," she paused and cat stretched in her chair with that leering, aggravating smirk of hers that always made Aveline's hands twitch with temptation to slap it from her face. "I thought we needed a girl's night out."

"A girl's night out?" Aveline repeated slowly through gritted teeth.

"Yes you know. We'll dance, we'll sing, we'll pillow fight, we'll do eachothers make up, gossip about the boys we like," she mocked, "and of course we'll ensure that we drink so much alcohol that we can't remember crossing the boundaries of our friendship despite finding ourselves in an extremely compromising situation in the morning."

"This is the reason you called me away from my duties!" Aveline fumed. "I have no time or interest in your sordid games and your mischief." Giving the pirate her most menacing glare she pointed an accusing finger at the woman. "Your message said Hawke needed me. Where is she?"

Unperturbed by Aveline's glower Isabela smiled sweetly and her eyes never left the warrior as she pulled up the head of her passed out companion.

'_Oh maker,' _Aveline thought, it was Hawke.

"Greetings," Isabela said impersonating the mage's voice and she used her free hand to open and close the mouth of her intoxicated friend. "I am the strong and illustrious Hawke, paragon of the people. I help the helpless, profit be dammed..."

"Isabela!" Aveline reprimanded forcefully knowing full well who was behind Hawke's current condition. Aveline was stunned by her friends dishevelled state. Hawke took her appearance rather seriously. She never left her Uncle's house without first making sure that she looked immaculate; robes, hair, makeup, everything was constructed and carefully chosen to compliment and create a faultless facade that added and attenuated the woman's beauty. But the Hawke that currently sat opposite her was a stark contrast to her typically refined and sophisticated friend. Her hair was tangled and frizzy except for a dark patch on her blonde hair that suggested she's been lying in wetness (what wetness Aveline dreaded to think), her eye make had run trickling down her face like dark tears and by the look of the dark bruise on her chin she'd been fighting, there was also some sticky yellow debris around her mouth which Aveline silently hoped were _undigested_ crumbs of food. Altogether it looked like Hawke had been dragged through a bush backwards, then a stagnant puddle, then the entire length of the dark roads, through another bush and finally through a tavern privy.

"How was I to know she couldn't hold her drink," Isabela protested holding her hand up in surrender as the other hand clasped onto the sleeping mage's chin keeping her upright. "Even Merrill's had more ale and she's half her size," she motioned towards the young elf that was sat on top of the next table humming cheerfully as she braided the hair of a man who had passed out on the table. Merrill noticed her two friends staring at her and waved a cheerful greeting at Aveline, the confused red-head returned the gesture.

Aveine was never really sure why she was friends with Isabela and Merrill; their friendship was always a source of confusion. The majority of the time they spent together they aggravated her, they never listened to her good advice on improving themselves and they were constantly inquiring about her private life, but it is amazing how saving each other's lives on a daily basis can create camaraderie even amongst those who should be enemies. Hawke's companions were a family of a kind; a strange and dysfunctional family but a family none the less. It was comforting to think of them in such a way she thought that she would never experience that feeling of belonging again after she lost Wesley.

_What would Wesley have thought of her friends?_ She thought suddenly and as always she felt ashamed. Wesley would have never approved of her companions and he would probably have been right. It shamed his memory. She shifted awkwardly. _Friends with mages and criminals, how did she end up here?_ She passed a tired hand over her face and looked up to find Isabela silently watching her again. Aveline would sometimes catch Isabela looking at her with that piercing exposing gaze when the warrior was unprepared and unguarded and it was always unnerving for the very private warrior after all, Isabela's excelled in her ability to read and understand people it was how she manipulated people on and off the battlefield.

Isabela quickly shook off her serious look and changed tactics. "I just thought that we needed some fun after the fiasco in the deep roads, and you know who joining the you know what," she whispered nodding towards the sleeping mage. "She needed some light-hearted pleasure," she reasoned, "and what better way to attain such a state than a drunken night of revelry with just us girls. The boys in our party are banned. They may be pretty but their so broody and boring, except Varric of course he's off hunting his back stabbing brother." Aveline's remained unimpressed and stern so the ever adaptable rogue modified her approach. "In my experience fun is good for the soul and the body...or bodies," she turned the mage's face towards her squeezing Hawke's lips into a pout before giving them a loud smacking kiss.

Aveline sighed as Hawke lazily smirked in her sleep. Hawke did indeed need some merriment. Since meeting Hawke in Ferelden the apostate had quickly gained the warrior's loyalty and trust. She was the most generous person Aveline had ever met, a good and loyal friend who treated everyone she met with great care and respect, she could not have asked for a better leader for their group.

Her life as an apostate had made her a very private person she had to be, any slip of the tongue to the wrong person would lead the Templars straight to her family. As a consequence she very rarely spoke about herself to anyone preferring instead to ask others about their troubles and concerns but ever since the deep roads her companions had noticed a great change in their friend. When she was not petitioning the Viscount or on quests she would spend most of her time in seclusion and when they did see her during missions she seemed distracted and distant and only spoke to give commands. Even her friend's jokes and teasing wouldn't rouse the typically jovial mage and any smiles were thin and perfunctory.

Her growing lack of attention to her friends made the group uneasy. Rivalries rose to the surface and arguments between them were a common occurrence without the apostate's calming interventions. Aveline remembered one such occasion during their last quest to the wounded coast.

_Anders began arguing with Merrill. This was not an unusual situation when the two mage's were together but on that day Ander's attacks became increasingly vicious and the elf was nearly in tears at the healer's persistent and personal insults. Hawke seemed completely oblivious to their bickering and walked ahead of the group deep in thought. _

_In a sudden rush a band of thieves ambushed the party and the distressed elf was not quick enough to establish her rock armour before an assassin drove his daggers into her back. The yell from the elf was nothing compared to the furious scream that erupted from their leader's throat. The bloodcurdling screech was so agonised and disturbing Aveline found herself involuntary covering her ears and before she could even attack a single assailant Hawke raised her staff and projected vengeance. _

_Fire sprung from the mage covering the entire battle ground with a sudden burning heat. Aveline protectively threw herself over the injured mage before realising that although they were surrounded by flames the fire didn't burn Hawke's companions, the bloodcurdling screams that emanated from the heart of the fire suggested that the bandits were not so lucky and as the fire finally disappeared in a puff of smoke it revealed several blackened corpses whose stench made Hawke's companions cover their nose in disgust. Only Hawke and the assassin remained alive. Hawke's face was impassive as she twirled her staff paralyzing the bandit before stepping forward and slowly walking forward slitting his throat with the blade in her staff. Hawke sneered at the terrified assassin as she slowly allowed him bled to death before releasing her spell with a wave of her hand so he dropped lifelessly to the floor. _

_Aveline was shocked at Hawke's unusual malevolence against her enemies and as the mage turned towards her companions her eyes seemed empty and distant. She reminded Aveline of Wilmod and Olivia before they transformed and as Hawke took a few stumbling steps towards them the warrior stood over Anders as he tended to Merrill quietly unsheathing the dagger from her boot should a demon present itself. Luckily for Aveline and for Hawke the unpossessed mage fainted with exhaustion two steps away from her friends. _

Aveline guiltily shook her head at the memory of how quickly she lost her trust and how close she had come to attacking her closest friend. The Guard Captain had not seen the mage since the incident but reports from her friends spoke of how Hawke's solitary and despondent behaviour had become even worse; if that was even possible. It must have taken all of Isabela's wiles and persuasion to get Hawke to the tavern. It was good to see Hawke outside of her house and smiling even if it was alcohol induced.

Aveline couldn't believe she was about to do this but she good not in good conscious leave her friend with the perilous pirate when the mage's judgement was a little more than impaired. With a relented sigh Aveline sat down in the Hanged man and motioned Nora for round of drinks for her and the pirate. Isabella grinned triumphantly. "I'm only staying to make sure you don't get her into any mischief slattern," Aveline growled threateningly.

Isabela raised her hand to her chest feigning shock. "I am insulted. It's been at least a few hours since she got here so I'm not really sure if there is any more mischief I can get her into," she quipped. She paused and rubbed her chin as if she was deep in thought. "Actually, thinking about it I haven't done anything with her that involves nakedness many thanks for reminding me. I'll put in on my list of things to do with Hawke," she grinned and smoothly moved her free arm around Hawke letting the sleeping apostate's head fall onto her shoulder.

Aveline just managed to restrain herself. Isabela was always trying to drag her into an argument and her favourite method was lewdness. When they travelled together she always takes great delight in telling Aveline every detail of her nightly escapades and when they did not travel together Isabela would make a point to breaks into the barracks just to update the Guard Captain on her latest achievements. Aveline was sure that Isabela enjoyed the warrior's reprimands; it makes her behaviour so much more fun, so illicit. They always fell into the same banter; Isabela goaded and teased, and Aveline scolded and lectured. '_Well not tonight_,' Aveline thought. Tonight she would not give Isabela the satisfaction of provoking her.

The warrior forced herself to remain tight lipped and rolled her eyes despondently at Isabela before looking back at her best friend who was grinning like a Hurlock and beginning to dribble slightly onto Isabela's shoulder. "A fearsome mage who can freeze bandits, electrocute darkspawn but can't hold her drink," Aveline mused aloud, pausing to thank Norra for the drinks she placed on their table. "You know the same thing happened after we finished working for Merran," she said resting her head on her hand and idly tracing the top of her ale tankard. "Caver and I decided to take her to a tavern to celebrate and..."

Isabella's mouth dropped and her eyes widened in horror as she shook her head frantically using her free hand to wave at the Guard trying to silence her but it came too late. Hawke twitched at the sound of her brother's name, her head rolled back slightly and her eyes began to slowly open experimentally, one eye after the other as Isabela covered her face with her hand and groaned.

"Caver! That fucking templar wanker...," Hawke slurred trying to sit upright and, using the back of her hand to sloppily wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth, she entered into a fairly colourful abusive and detailed tirade about her brother. Aveline didn't even know that Hawke knew so many curse words. Hawke was usually so polite and proper so listening to her friend curse was like hearing your parents use bad language for the first time it was shocking and a little embarrassing and she winced with each cuss that left the mage's mouth.

"...Thinks he's bet'a than me," Hawke sneered "thinks he could'a led the family, an apostate family, bet'a than me. He can shove his hypocrisy up his Knight-Commander's fat ugly ar..."

"Maker's balls! She hasn't stopped talking about him for the last hour," Isabela interrupted with a moan as she angrily flicked Hawke's spittle from her shoulder. "If I wanted a belligerent drunk whinging on and on about some bloke that I don't give a shit about I would have invited Fenris," she told the warrior leaning on her hand with a huff. "I thought getting her drunk would be fun, that it would loosen her up a bit but the last hour has been dull, dull, dull."

Hawke draped her arms around Isabela's neck pulling her clumsily towards her. "Yooou don't need to get to me drunk to loosen me up sweetness," she husked trying to wink seductively at the pirate but the result was more of a lopsided blink.

"I stand corrected. I think this night just took a turn for the better," Isabela said brightly grinning at Aveline as she wrapped her arm around the mage. For some reason only known to the drunken woman Hawke proceeded to try and kiss the rogue's cheek without moving her head from the rogue's shoulder before giving up and trying to drink her dregs without picking up her mug with her hands and instead using only her mouth.

Aveline just couldn't help herself. She internally groaned at her inability to just let some of the impish comments slide; her father's lectures really had been built into her being. "Keep those paws to yourself vixen," she warned reluctantly picking up her tankard and sneered as Isabela grinned smugly at successfully goading the warrior.

Taking the last swig from her tankard Hawke's bleary eyes finally focussed on the talking blurry shape that had been sitting opposite her. "Heeeeyyy! It's Aveline," she squealed with delight leaning forward to grab at Aveline's occupied hands pushing some of the Guard's drink down her armour. Isabela laughed brazenly as an exasperated Aveline wiped the alcohol from her lap. "She's my bestest friend in the whooooole wide world," the oblivious Hawke drawled laying her head back on Isabela's shoulder with a contented sigh looking up at the beautiful Rivaini, "I love Aveline, she's my battle battering ram. Made of wood cause she's an immovable force like a strong sturdy freckly tree," she rambled dreamily, "and if she wasn't so straight I would love the challenge of trying to climb her..."

"Speaking of battles," Aveline blurted interrupting the mage before she ruined their friendship and ignoring the chuckling Isabela, "what happened to your chin?" she asked examining the bruise on the apostate's jaw.

Hawke ignored the Guard captain as she realised her drink was empty and was currently busy trying to steal the rogue's pint. Holding the mage at arm's length via her forehead as the mage tried to stretch across towards her ale the pirate took a taunting swig from her drink and answered for their occupied leader. "Well she's drunk and the tables at the Hanged man aren't as sturdy as they seem," she rolled her eyes at stupidity of such a question gently pushing the whining defeated Hawke away. Everyone knows that getting drunk at the Hanged man leads to dancing on the table.

"You let her...," the warrior nodded towards the seated mage who was swaying slightly in her seat pouting, "...dance on the table?"

"It was Merrill's fault," Isabela protested. "There was a band playing and she got up on the table and then there were people cheering and ale and clapping and ale," Isabela paused as she drew the tankard to her lip, "and I may have pulled her up on to the table," she added quietly into her drink.

"What band?"

"Oh well," Isabela waved her hand dismissively, "that's what she fell on, onto the lead lute to be exact." She left her tankard on the table and leaned forward in her chair with a smile that reached her eyes making them sparkle excitedly. "It was a breathtaking encounter to watch. The tactics were particularly unusual but our leader once again emerged victorious."

"Maker's breath Hawke." Aveline smiled from her ale mug and actually felt a little sorry to have missed the mage making such a spectacle.

A bubbly Merrill plopped down beside the warrior. "Oh I see Hawke is awake. That's good, means there's hope for her brain cells." Aveline leaned back to look around the elf to the sleeping man at the other table, he looked like an un-horned quanari leaving Aveline to wonder how Merrill had managed to braid all his hair so quickly.

"DO YOU WANT SOME FOOD HAWKE?"

"Maker Merrill she's drunk not deaf," Aveline winched.

"Heeeeyyyyyyy look now it's Merrill. I luuurrrrve Merrill, Hawke told Isabela seeming to temporarily forget that the rogue had actually met the elf. "She's a blood mage. Sssshhhhhhh..," she whispered conspiratorially placing a finger on Isabela's lips, "...don't tell anyone."

Hawke ignored her friend's laughter and studied Isabela's lips intently. "You have lovely lips," Hawke sluggishly prodded at Isabela's full red lips, "and your eyes are the colour of honey 'cause the Maker knew you'd be sweet." She lazily smirked grabbing the pirate's neck to pull her towards her. "You know if I wasn't so much of a lady I would..." the rest of her sentence cut off to her companions sitting opposite her as she leaned up and whispered her wishes in the rouge's ear. Merrill and Aveline watched as Isabela sultry smugness quickly turned to frowning confusion followed by wide open mouthed shock. "...usually it's done with potatoes," Hawke proposed aloud as she pulled away from the oblivious rogue to reach around and snatch her pint, "but for you it'll be nothing but oranges," she finished taking a long satisfied gulp from Isabela's drink.

"What did she say? Was it dirty?" A thoroughly entertained Merrill asked clapping excitedly.

Isabela opened and closed her mouth in a daze. The experienced pirate wasn't really sure what the mage was proposing. _'Why would they need the boots of the Overseer and a pair of Dalish Gloves?'_

Aveline's amused snort broke the pirate from her unhealthy imagination and she gave the Ferrelden a gesture with her middle finger that the warrior was pretty sure represented an extremely rude Rivaini insult given the frequency and instances she showed it to the warrior. Isabela's eyes drifted back to Hawke who was currently drinking the pirate's drink, "You bloody trickster!" she yelled finally realising she had been tricked. A scuffle ensued as she tried to win back the pint pulling the tankard out of the mage's surprisingly strong grasp and spilling its contents down her top. "Andraste's knickers!" Isabela fumed standing up to furiously wipe the alcohol from her favourite dress as Aveline and Merril roared with laughter. Hawke laid her head back on the table and groaned miserably.

"Ok Hawke it's time for bed," Aveline said with a small smile she estimated that she had under a hour to get Hawke to bed hugging a bucket, "these reprobates have corrupted you enough."

"Yes you're right Aveline," Isabela agreed readily as she looked up from her spoiled tunic. Aveline frowned suspiciously at the unusual situation. "If you could just help me get her up the stairs to my room." Aveline frown deepened at the typical situation. "Do not worry Aveline," Isabela soothed as she sat back down. "I will make it my personal quest to make sure she gets safely to bed and has the best night of her life, I mean best night's sleep of her life," Isabela correctly quickly with a smug smile. Aveline rolled her eyes as Merrill giggled.

Isabela continued with a wave of her hand, "Look the respectable mage can't go home in this state so why not leave her with me. I'll take very, very good care of her. I have vast experience of tending to the needs of drunken maidens," she finished with that treacherous smile as she stroked the sleeping mage's hair.

Aveline considered the options, for once Isabela was right, Hawke's relationship with her mother had become strained since her brother joined the Templars so her mother could not see her in a drunken state but sleeping in this pit would ruin Hawke's good reputation and the nobles would use it as an excuse to prevent the Hawke family from regaining their title and estate (heaven forbid that a Ferelden should rise to their ranks even if she was ludicrously rich one). Plus she certainly wasn't going to leave Hawke to the mercy of the unscrupulous pirate. Aveline rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully as her eyes finally settled on Merrill. The hierarchy of Kirkwall didn't care what happened in the alienage (well not at the moment Aveline had careful plans to change that). "Hawke will stay with Merrill," Aveline decided. Isabela cursed and Merrill smiled brightly (she loved sleepovers). The elf quickly began to pick up their things from the table before the Guard changed her mind.

"Come on you'll have to help me," Aveline said to the moody pirate as she moved round the table and shook Hawke gently until the tired mage lifted her head from the table. "Wake up drunky it's time to go."

"Nnnnoooooo. I want more ale," Hawke whined petulantly as she banged the table with her fists. "I want more fun," she slammed the table again. "It's too early to go home now," she pouted her large bloodshot eyes pleading with the Guard Captain. "Heeeeyyy let's go to the Blooming Rose," she said enthusiastically excited by her proposal. "I'll treat everyone to a stiff one... and a drink ha, ha, ha," she snorted.

Aveline jumped as Isabela banged her feet onto the table and after a few seconds of rummaging around in her boat pulled out a small piece of paper. "I've got a Blooming Rose voucher."

Hawke gasped and her wide eyes lit with glee, "Wow, discounted debauchery" she yelled grabbing the voucher and reading the terms and conditions (they were very short). She slowly frowned as her drunken mind processed the new information. "How do you get a voucher from a brothel?"

The pirate snatched the voucher and waved it in the mage's face. "You have to be a very, very valuable customer," she purred lowly.

Hawke hummed lecherously "I bet you are," she smirked moving towards the grinning rogue until she was perched on the edge of her chair, "you naughty minx you," Hawke growled leaning forward to playfully punch the rouge's shoulder, of course she missed completely and the unbalanced mage toppled forward onto the floor with a yelp taking her chair with her. Aveline shook her head at her friend's drunken antics her small brief smile the only evidence of her amusement. Isabella on the other hand, laughed loudly and slapped the table in amusement as she looked down at her fallen friend. Still chuckling, she leaned down slightly and with one hand picked up the chair and then slowly pulled up the dazed mage by the collar. The red-faced Hawke glanced at the rogue as Isabela doubled over in her chair at the sight of their leader's astonished expression. The kneeling mage couldn't help but burst into laughter and she wrapped her arms around the waist of the seated pirate as they snorted happily.

Aveline sighed and seeking coalition from one of her companions glanced questioningly at the quiet contemplative elf. "A stiff what?" Merrill's asked Aveline with large innocent eyes. The two delinquents' jaws dropped in unison as they spun to look at the elf before they cracked into another bout of hysterical laughter.

Aveline cleared her throat loudly before the smirking Isabela could open her mouth to let lose the most lewd explanation she could muster and Isabela's rising excitement at that prospect of a free night at the brothel was brought to an abrupt halt when she looked at the forbidding stance and steel edged glare of the Guard Captain of Kirkwall. Isabela eye's dulled and her body sagged in defeat. "Come Lady Hawke," she sighed dejectedly removing Hawke from her lap and standing up, "let's continue the merriment at Merrill's."

Hawke stood up awkwardly with Aveline's help. "Huzza to Merrill's!," she cried raising her hands in celebration before swinging her right hand back in a wide loop slapping Isabela on her backside. The force of the swing knocked the surprised Isabela forward forcing her to steady herself on the table.

Isabela had very few rules but one of those rules, in fact her number one irrefutable rule, was that no-one touched Isabela without Isabela's permission. Instinctively she pivoted sharply with a snarl ready to break some fingers but the culprit, being held up by the Guard Captain, just smiled sweetly, fluttered her eyelashes and blew the pirate a kiss. The stunned rogue laughed at such a bawdy action from their illustrious leader and suddenly overcome with the overwhelming desire to hug the drunken apostate (the second of Isabela's limited rules being that Isabela always did whatever Isabela desired) she pulled the mage away from Aveline for a hug and planted a sloppy kiss on the mage's burning left cheek. Isabela reared backwards slightly surprised by her seemingly innate reaction and an awkward silence fell on the party; the pirate's unusual expression of affection without the obligatory witty or snark remark making them all feel slightly uncomfortable. Isabela quickly remedied the situation by giving Hawke a hard slap on her backside.

Hawke whooped in delight and the two laughed loudly as Isabela lead her from the bar with a supporting arm around her waist_._ The giggling elf and amused warrior followed their exit and the four friends braced themselves for the cold night air leaving the Hanged man behind unaware that their night had barely begun.

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Pretty please R & R and make me a happy bunny.

Only one chapter left and it's already written so read and follow without fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello fellow followers (all two of you and I internet love you dearly and equally, I just have so much love to give). Last two chapters of this story are just for you and if you think the story couldn't get any sillier you were clearly mistaken.

P.S. Hawke's critque in the middle of the chapter NOT DIRECTED AT ANYONE, it's actually about me and my inability to write smut fanfic.

Oh and I changed the story title, I'm always doing that

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The muggers stood in the shadows of the lowtown alley. It was a cold night and the men quietly stamped their feet and blew on their hands trying to alleviate the cold stabbing pains that seemed to run through their bones, but it wasn't just the temperature that was making them restless. The increased guard patrols under Guard Captain 'Anal' had forced them to move to the more concealed quieter areas of the city where people rarely crossed their paths and pickings were slim. They had become so desperate they even robbed some Alienage elves but they still hadn't made enough coin for one night.

Their leader Dennem sweated profusely despite the chill in the air, the thought of telling the boss about his failure was making him incredibly nervous. "Where the hell is Derek? If he's in that bloody tavern again I'll have his balls," he grumbled loudly. They couldn't take on anyone dangerous without their mage and they had already let a couple of armoured merchant Dwarfs walk past. The boss was going slit their throat if they didn't rob someone of substance soon.

He peered out of the darkness, hopeful, watchful and impatient...and then in the distance he heard it - singing, very, very bad singing and it was slowly getting closer. The guilty party slowly came into sight; three girls, a tall, obviously drunk blonde human being held between a small elf and a curvaceous dark haired woman who looked strangely familiar. The stumbling blonde was singing obnoxiously but Dennem was more interested in the enticingly large coin purse that was swinging at her belt. The leader's stomach and heart leapt with joy this would be easy. "Aye aye lads, look sharp," he grinned as the thieves instinctively pulled back further into the shadows quietly drawing their weapons.

Merrill and Isabela staggered into the dark alley dragging a singing Hawke between them. Isabella shifted slightly pulling the mage's arm further across her shoulder, balancing the tall mage between the smaller elf and herself was proving to be quite awkward since Aveline had stayed behind to reproach one of her guards on the proper upkeep of their armour. But Isabela wasn't in the mood to wait around in the cold and listen to one to Aveline's lectures. Although she had to admit that she envied them slightly, it was strangely titillating to be disciplined by the warrior and Isabela smiled lewdly as she indulged in one of her favourite fantasies of being disciplined by the Captain, handcuffs were involved of course and those big man hands round her slim wrists...

_"…Whether frontwards or backwards or hands tight with rope,_

_No matter the size, no matter the boat, _

_There isn't a mast on a ship, in a fleet,_

_Who's vertical spurs I cannot defeat,_

_No matter the weather I'm always on atop, _

_My pants may be absent 'neath skimpy white top…." _

Isabella grimaced as her happy daydreaming was abruptly cut short and she was dragged back to reality by Hawke's screeching melody.

A highly entertained Merrill was trying (but failing) to sing along with the unfamiliar song occasionally covering her mouth and laughing at the every suggestive connotation (it was pretty obvious, even to the naive elf, who the song was describing).

"How many times to I have to tell people it's a dress not a tunic," the famous pirate gestured towards with her white dress. She would never escape her infamous reputation, you break a bard's heart once and this is what happens - musical revenge_._ "Where did you learn that anyway? Was it Varric?" Isabela accused already devising her revenge on the jolly mischievous dwarf.

"Errrrmmmm noooo," Hawke slurred frowning up at the pirate as she tried to think, "It was Bethany and she learnt it from a chantry lay sister Leliana in Lothering,"

"A chantry sister?" Isabela questioned skeptically.

"Yep, she used to be an assassin bard before she joined the chantry and she was so preeetttty," she gushed with a dreamy grin, "and her singing voice could excite such wonderful emotions. When we were escaping Bethany wanted us to go back into Lothering for her," the mage laughed incredulously, "Can you believe how stupid a suggestion that was? Just wander back into a city crawling with Darkspawn to look for one woman. Bethany was always too caring for her own good, too protective..." she trailed off as the smile left her lips and her face distorted in pain. Hawke suddenly felt very tired and attempted to sit down, much to the resistance of her companions.

"Nugshit!" Isabela said pulling Hawke back off the ground by her arm and trying to change the subject. "You expect me to believe that you knew a chantry sister who would get into fights and sing dirty songs. Sounds more like one of Varric's steamy yarns."

"I swear on my honour as an apostate," Hawke vowed with a small smile. "Not all chantry sisters are as unworldly as you think, it's not all singing and preaching you know."

"Oh I see. I see only too well." Isabela's eyes narrowed and she grinned devilishly. The Pirate Captain stopped the group from walking and waved her hand in front of her dramatically. "Picture the scene. Its night time and the Lothering chantry is dark and empty except for the soft sounds of a young Hawke who kneels before the statue of Andraste sobbing quietly with hands clenched in fervent prayer." She paused to check Merrill was listening and was pleased to find the elf wide eyed and hanging on her every word, after all isabela reasoned, '_what was the point in being lewd if no one was going to hear you being lewd_.' She continued constructing her Friendfiction. "'What is it my child.' A gentle voice asked interrupting her solitude. Hawke gasped in surprise at the beautiful chantry sister who had managed to silently approach and sit beside her without alerting the young maiden to her presence. 'I am so ashamed sister. I am tainted. I've been having such wicked, wicked dreams sister about...about my friends,' the young woman sobbed. The Chantry sister was astonished by the woman's candid confession. Her life had not always been cloistered and she was only too aware to why the maiden's words created a sudden hot flush that spread through her body settling in her belly. She licked her dry lips noticing the way the shy young woman's gaze watched the motion intently and the simple action was enough to break her sturdy resolve. 'Tell me your sins child so that together we may excise the dem...'"

"What...who are you talking about?" Hawke interrupted.

"How you were seduced by the Chantry sister," Isabela sniggered.

The apostate shook her head disapprovingly as the pirate burst into laughter at successfully aggravating their leader and making Merril blush at the same time. "Why do you have to make every relationship I have sound salacious," Hawke brought her arm further round the elf's shoulder to wag a disapproving finger at the Rivalian unaware that she crushing the poor elf against the side of her chest and Merrill's light blush turned to dark crimson. "Furthermore your predictable and almost prosaic descriptions of courtship demean and trivialise the act of making love. The act of making love..."

"Will you pleeeaaase stop calling it the act of making love," the pirate whined in pain, "I think I just vomited a little into my mouth."

"The act of making love," Hawke continued releasing her arm from the elf to jab her finger into the rogue's sternum, "is an astonishing, beautiful, profound and personal experience and therefore, in itself, a difficult and complex emotion to describe even for the most accomplished writer." Isabella tutted and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Hawke always took everything too seriously, it was only a joke and Hawke's critique of her abilities as a Friendfiction writer was rather harsh in her opinion. "And for your information Sister Justine's courtship was gentle, unhurried and personally tailored to inspire my desires and when we finally partook in the act of making love," Hawke continued casually ignoring the shocked expressions on her friend's faces at her omission, "it was filled with wine, candles and a rare copy of 'Flemeth legenda'."

Isabella's mouth opened and closed in astonishment as a barrage of questions assaulted her mind including the obvious 'w_ho the hell is Sister Justine_'_. _Seducing a chantry sister was one of Isabela's absolute favourite fantasies and she had lost count of the numerous insufferably boring chantry services she had attended hoping that perhaps she could persuade one of the chaste sisters to be less...well less chaste. Alas so far it had proven to be a fruitless endeavour and so she found herself a little irked that the prudish Hawke had managed achievement before her; she was therefore conflicted by her need to discover how the mage had achieved such a feat but also by her reputation as the most offensive member of their party to construct a worthy lewd retort. While pondering the advantages of either option and whether Hawke would reference the question '_And how does repression taste?_', Isabela was more than a little surprised that Merrill was the first to break the silence with a question. Isabela knew the elf better than anyone in Kirkwall and she appreciated that the blood mage was a little eccentric but the question she asked was such an unexpected and outrageous response to Hawke's little disclosure it was stupefying and Isabela's mouth stopped its silent movement to gape open in shock.

"Did it have the rare Kinloch binding?" Merrill inquired. Hawke nodded with a huge grin releasing the stunned pirate and the two mages turned to face each other excitedly. Their eyes shone brightly as the bookish friends both relished their shared passion.

"Handwritten by the Great Enchanter?" Merrill gasped.

"And autographed," Hawke verified her smile widening as Merrill's voice became high-pitched."With the original veridium engravings?" Hawke nodded frantically and they both squealed with delight interlocking their fingers together gleefully.

Startled by her friend's girlish behaviour Isabella's eyes darting between the mages as they began to bounce up and down excitedly. Finally regaining some composure it took her a few moments to realise that 'Kinloch binding' was not a euphemism for bondage and a few more moments to comprehend exactly what they were describing. "Andraste's teats Merrill," the pirate said reproachfully, "who gives a shit about some bloody book! I want to hear about the fu..."

"Stand still and relinquish your coin," the impatient Dennem threatened from the darkness. Unwilling to wait any longer for the group to reach them in the shadows he boldly stepped further into the alley letting the moonlight glint across his blade in warning the four men behind him followed suit.

"Fooooorrrr fuuuuck saaake," the pirate groaned as she stamped her foot and irritably kicked at some stones on the ground. Now she was never going to hear the intimate details of that story.

"Oh look Hawke I'm finally going to get mugged, how thrilling," Merrill gushed moving her hand to the staff concealed on her back.

"Fret not ladies, I shall deal with the filthy swine," Hawke bellowed with reassurance, her brief moment of fake sobriety ending quickly as she stumbled forward from her friends nearly falling over in the process. "Hold criminals," she yelled still bent over as she paused for a second to stop the world from spinning before pulling herself into an upright position, back straight and proud. "Do not take me for a common fool. I am Hawke, paragon of the people...," she said proudly ignoring Isabella muttering darkly about predictable and prosaic personal mantras, "...Killer of demons, destroyer of darkspawn, punisher to perpetrators, deliverer of lost miscellaneous items to their rightful owners," she shouted arms outstretched, eyes narrowing. "Beware scoundrels. Beware and know thy enemy. Turn from your villainous path and live another day."

The bandits hesitated for a second, it was unusual to have their targets actually speaking to them, most screamed, others ran but they certainly didn't caution them. They looked at each other considered her words before shrugging and continuing their advance.

"You have been warned felons now suffer the consequences. Come Hawke's harem, we must not give them the advantage," she shouted while awkwardly stretching behind her to reach for her hidden weapon.

The bandits stopped again and looked on with renewed interest. "Hawke's harem," said one of them, "aren't they those prostitutes that work out of Hightown. They really know how to look after a bloke if you know what I mean," he leered nudging the man beside him with his elbow.

"No, no, no," said the berskerer lifting his face shield to speak to his friend, "You're thinking of Henrietta's harlots. They have the ginger one that lost her leg to a rabid nug and can do that thing with the turnip."

"You're both wrong," said the assassin scratching his beard thoughtfully with the tip of his dagger, "she's in Lucy's loose lovelies out of Lowtown."

"Well who are these whores then?" questioned the first bandit as they all turned to observe Hawke bend over in an attempt to reach the weapon hidden on her back while cursing.

"Where in Maker's name is it. I'm sure I had three of them in my inventory. Why else would I carry three staffs around..."

Dannem, as all good leaders should, had been entering the battle behind his men and was now stuck behind his arguing men. His face began to twitch in anger and he rubbed at the throbbing vein on his forehead. His men's biennial chatter was irritating but he had been a criminal long enough to know that two of their intended victims should not be laughing at their imminent demise. "I don't bloody care who they are or what or who they do," he said lowly his voice rising threateningly until he was shouting, "let's just kill them and take their bloody coin!"

"Oh and nice of you to join us Derek. Where in bloody hell have you been?" Dannem yelled seeing their mage trying to quietly join the back of the group. "And what in Maker's name have you done to your hair? Is that...is that Andraste's grace?"

Derek curiously raised his hand to his hair and his eyes widened in shock as he touched his newly braided hair intertwined with flowers.

"Coo'eee Derek," Merrill waved excitedly at him until the astonished mage warily returned the gesture. Dannem groaned and closed his eyes as his blood began to boil in rage figuring that if he couldn't see his allies then he wouldn't want to kill his allies.

"Errrrm boss," his assassin said worriedly suspending his leader's mounting rage and gesturing towards Hawke who had finally managed to find her staff. She pulled her weapon over her head the momentum propelling her a few steps forward. Her companions stopped giggling but grinned darkly as they unsheathed and span their weapons in elegant, practiced flourishes - a rogue and two mages. This was not going to be as easy as he thought.

Derek quietly slipped back out of the alley.

"A-ha," Hawke shouted triumphantly trying to spin her weapon, dropping it and having to quickly pick it up again, "behold evil...doers time to meet thy maker." Hawke lifted her staff above her head and the air crackled around her with magical energy as sparkling lines of lightning traveled up her body and across her staff collecting around its head into a swirling ball of white light. A chance gust of wind blew through the alley sweeping the hair from the mage's face revealing her intense blue eyes that burned and sparkled with focused purpose. Pointing her staff at the front of her enemies she whispered the chant of her most powerful mind blast spell. The bandits gasped in horror at her powerfully display and they bit their fists in fear turning slightly from the mage to try and avoid her impending assault.

Isabela had quickly become bored and begun cleaning her fingernails with the tip of her blade but Merrill watched the scene with studious interest. The blood mage was certainly impressed by Hawke's theatrics and the lightning effect was certainly very pretty, quite unnecessary for the spell but definitely very pretty. However, although she had yet to master mind blast she was pretty confident that powerful arcane spells have to be channeled through the caster not the staff otherwise it can have the most dangerous consequences. She quickly and correctly predicted the outcome of the miscast spell and stepped out of the way as it ricocheted sending Hawke's screaming projectile backwards to knock a distracted Isabela off her feet and end its journey against the alley wall.

At the sound of the commotion Aveline bounded round the corner of the alley with two guards to find Hawke lying face down in rubbish, Merrill grinning excitedly and waving and Isabela cursing and rubbing her head as she tried to stand up. Shaking her head Aveline spotted the muggers drew her axe and equipped her husband's shield. Motioning Merrill to help Hawke up she charged into battle with a fearsome war cry dragging a cussing Isabela to her feet in her wake.

Merrill knelt beside her friend. "Hawke, please be alright. Hawke wake up." Merrill pleaded gently shaking her friend's shoulder. The shemlin groaned and lifted her bleary eyes towards her friend.

"Did we win?"

Merrill smiled at the dishevelled face of their leader and peeling a rotten cabbage leaf from Hawke's forehead. The elf glanced back at the skirmish. "Not yet but Aveline just got the assassin. What a vivid shade of red. We really should all wear red. I've only got two changes to clothing and it would make washing them much easier," she rambled

"I'm exhausted. I think...I think I need some lyrium or something." Hawke moaned trying to stand up. The small elf stood up before her and tried to help Hawke to her feet using her staff as a counterbalance but as the mage stood she stumbled towards the elf wrapping her arms around Merrill to stop herself from falling and trapping the elf's staff between them.

What a happy accident.

"Oh Merrill," Hawke sighed contently picking the elf up slightly to rest her cheek on the top of Merrill's head. Merrill's grunted as the tight hold pushed the air out of her lungs. "You are so adorable and cuddly."

Merrill was very cuddly (she'd been practicing) and luckily for Hawke Merrill loved cuddles too. There was nothing quite like cuddling to make everything feel just wonderful. Merrill still argued that if the city introduced free hugs it would stop a lot of disagreements and dramatically reduce the crime rate but for some reason Aveline seemed hesitant to propose the idea to the Viscount. If was more of a one sided cuddle as Merrill still grasped her staff but if Hawke wanted a cuddle than who was she to deny her.

Merrill glanced behind her at progress of the fight and without breaking the embrace pushed her staff out slightly from between their bodies and pointed it at the nearest enemy casting visions of horror before smiling wickedly as she paralyzed an enemy who tried to sneak up behind Isabela. "Oh, thank you very much Hawke," she replied brightly to Hawke's compliment.

"You're the nicest blood mage I've ever met," Hawke gushed, "although to be fair I do tend to kill most of the blood mage's I meet so I don't really get a chance to know them very well," she conceded.

"Uh huh," Merrill hummed distractedly swinging them round slightly using the tips of her toes to petrify the approaching beserker.

"Mmmmm and you feel so nice and warm and sooooo soft," Hawke hummed as she slowly trailed her hand up and down the blood mage's back.

Merrill froze; this was quickly turning into not cuddling. In her vast experience cuddles were supposed to be calming this hug was not calming in fact it was quite the opposite; it was warming but in all the wrong places. Merrill's suspicions were confirmed when she felt Hawke's warm breath on her ear, "why don't we get rid of those two and have a private party of our own. Just us mages. We can exchange…..skills and talents."

"A party?" A scarlet faced Merrill squeaked nervously stretching her neck as she tried to avoid Hawke nuzzling her ear, "errrrr...won't Isabela and Aveline want to come?"

"Well Isabela might like to...come," Hawke purred, "but I don't think Aveline would like the party games I have in mind," Hawke chuckled roguishly as she tightened her hold around the poor elf.

The battle over a stealthed Isabela watched Hawke grin happily completely oblivious to Merrill's desperate attempts to climb out of her embrace. Their leader was really starting to annoy Isabela. When she has decided to launch into this endeavour she had no idea that the drunk mage would be so lecherous. She was pretty sure that Merrill's innocence was not in any danger from the mage but Hawke's increscent teasing was encroaching upon Isabella's territory. In her eyes they each had their roles to fill; Hawke was the uptight, irritatingly virtuous leader, Aveline was the emotionally stunted, boringly moralistic Guard, Merrill was the adorably naive, mentally unstable blood mage and she was the marvellously vulgar, amusingly offensive pirate. Isabella made the lewd remarks, she made the women and men blush and sexual innuendoes could not be undertaken by just anyone that was strictly her forte. In point of fact it was usually Isabela that Hawke blush at her lewd remarks and sexual innuendoes and underneath all that bravado enforced by liquid confidence was the same shy reserved prude of a mage that blushed and stuttered if Isabela so much as barely touched her. The pirate had to stop this behaviour once and for all and prove her rightful place as the most obnoxious and flirtatious member of Hawke's companions. She stepped forward after hatching a quick plan.

"What an interesting invitation," Isabela purred as she unstealthed behind the two woman scaring the apostate who yelped in surprise and tightened her grip around the elf forcing Merrill's head against her upper chest. Isabela smiled slyly trying not to laugh as Hawke's nervousness confirmed that her flirtations with the elf had been empty. '_This would be too easy'_. "I would be most pleased to attend. My skills and talents do not span to school of magic but I do know a thing or two about tussling," Isabela husked sauntered around them with her most sultry stride, causing the Hawke's mouth to gape at the moving mesmerising hips. "I've been told I'm quite the teacher in such matters," the pirate promised and Merrill struggling froze in astonishment as Isabela began to stroke the blood mage's hair. The pirate's other hand ran slowly down the shaft of merrrill's staff around Hawke's body and trailing down Hawke's back as she continued, "why I've been known to take on two or even three opponents at a time and before they know it they're are on their backs and screaming for their maker," she groaned biting her lip seductively as her hand reached the Hawke's backside and she pulled the now shocked sweating mage towards her trapping the poor innocent elf between them. Hawke eyes bulged and she squealed as Isabela squeezed her backside and Merill gasped a muffled entreaty to the dread wolf finally deciphering Isabela's insinuation. Now Hawke was the one pulling back trying to wrestle herself from the embrace. Isabela's position as harlot was finally restored and she laughed triumphantly as she pulled Merrill out of the lustful apostate's arms just before Hawke landed on her backside.

The ever watchful Aveline decided to leave the clear up to the other guards before Hawke decided to take Isabela up on her offer. "Come on Hawke," she said walking over to the group, "time for bed." She easily picked up the confused skinny mage and threw her over a shoulder.

Roused from the unhealthy images that had been besieging her mind Hawke acted quickly. "Huzza, to bed" the upside down Hawke cried lifting the back of Aveline's armour in front of her to slap the warrior's backside. Aveline froze momentarily before shaking her head and continuing her trek towards the alienage. Isabela chuckled at the mage's drunken antics wrapping an arm around Merrill. The pirate patted the dazed elf on the back with a knowing chuckle and grabbing Merrill's hand pulled her friend after the warrior and her bundle.


	3. Chapter 3

Merrill opened the door to her house and Aveline entered with the sobering, whimpering Hawke hanging limply on her shoulder. Used candles and scruffy book littered the floors and tables and the wind through the cracked windows and flicked their pages back and forth. Merrill walked into her bedroom covering the progress of the Eluviian with a blanket she moved the books from the bed and motioned Aveline to lay Hawke upon it while a smirking Isabela casually leaned against the bedroom doorway admiring her handiwork.

Hawke moaned in discomfort, "I don't feel well. Oh maker," she sat up suddenly covered her mouth.

"Could you give us a minute alone please Merrill," Aveline asked politely trying to save the little scarp of dignity Hawke had left. The elf nodded and closed the door behind her and a highly amused Isabela. Aveline quickly took the bucket from the adjoining washroom to Hawke and held the mage's long hair back as she wretched into a bucket. Leaving Hawke moaning into the bucket Aveline moved back to the washroom to remove the blood splattered across her hands and face from the battle with the bandits. Wetting another cloth she returned to the mage removed the bucket from her hands she stood her back up to take her mage's armour down to her shift, removed her shoes and gently laid her back down on the bed covering her with Merrill's think blanket.

Hawke's looked up at the warrior silently watching Aveline with large vulnerable eyes as the warrior used the damp cloth to gently wash the sweat and sick from her face. As Aveline finished Hawke gently covered the hand on to her face holding it in place. "I'm sorry."

Aveline frowned at the worried expression on Hawke's face and chuckled, "It's not the first time I've seen you drunk Hawke. I'm just glad that this time there was other people to gain the attention of your wandering hands. Besides I think your headache tomorrow morning will be more than enough punishment for..."

"No...I'm sorry about Wesley. He seemed such a good man. I wish that I didn't have to do it. I'm sorry," she whispered.

They had never talked about what happened in Lothering and Aveline had assumed that had formed a silent agreement that it was not to be discussed. Aveline pulled her hand away from the mage's in disgust. She ground her teeth and for a split second Aveline hated her friend, even though it was an act of kindness Hawke will always be the person who killed her husband.

"I wish I could have saved him...that I could have saved them both. She was so sweet, so much better than me," she sobbed covering her face. "He has never forgiven me that's why he betrayed me so hurtfully. I just wanted to protect him. I could not lose him. I wish things could have been different. I wish I had made better decisions for all of us."

Grief can be selfish and Aveline often forgot that she was not the only one to lose someone during their flight from Ferrelden. They were both still mourning for their loved ones but the loss of Hawke's brother and then the incident with Merrill had obviously made Hawke's tightening composure finally snap. Aveline remembered Merrill, the scouring fire and burnt bodies, she remembered Bethany, somehow Hawke's actions always relayed back to her dead sister Bethany. Aveline in her anger-filed grief had forced the mage to burn Wesley and her sister's bodies so they wouldn't be found by the Darkspawn, no time for a burial or pyre. Aveline could not even watch but she made Hawke do it with the spell she had just learned, made her do it with her own two hands until they were ashes. Hands she now noticed with dried blood around the nails, fingernails nervously bitten to the quick she had begun chewing on the skin around the nails until they bled. Hawke never used fire again after Lothering until that infamous day on the Wounded coast. But the anger had sparked, built and consumed until released in an explosion of vengeance. Not anger towards her enemies but towards herself for her weakness and failures.

It was difficult for Aveline to cope with her own loss without recognising its shadow upon her friend, and for Hawke the ghosts would always follow her. At least Aveline could lessen her grief by directing some of her anger towards the mage and even if her anger was misplaced Hawke accepted it willingly because it was her role. She was the leader and in her mind she could only blame herself for her misfortune so why not burden herself with more of it if it made her friend feel a little better. A great deal of responsibility had been placed on young shoulders and Aveline could never take it away from her, Hawke would not let her, but maybe she could help Hawke to impart some of its weight.

The warrior's mind was made up and the distraught mage watched curiously as the warrior removed her outer armour, boots and gauntlets until her stood in her leathers. Aveline nudged Hawke motioning for the mage to move further across the bed until there was enough space for her to lie down beside her. Aveline shifted nervously beside the mage. Speaking about feelings made her uncomfortable and the last person she had hugged had been her husband, being sensitive and emotional did not come naturally for her another consequence of her Father's upbringing.

They had never really spoken about what happed in Ferrelden but then they never really spoke about anything that mattered. They were more alike than Aveline would ever admit too proud and stunted to speak about feelings both of them mistaken that there was strength in silence. Aveline steadied her resolve and with a deep calming breath wrapped her arms around the whimpering mage pulling her towards her. Hawke gladly settled on her friend's shoulder and put her arms around the warrior's waist. Aveline stroked the mage's hair soothingly letting her friend cry into her leathers and when her sobs finally subsided Aveline picked up the wet cloth and gently washed the blood from the mage's hands while speaking calmly sharing her treasured memories of Wesley. Hawke listened quietly before asking questions about the templar which Aveline answered honestly and when Hawke felt brave enough she told the warrior about Bethany. They spoke for hours cried and laughed with different memories chuckling they imagined them in Kirkwall predicting how they would have responded to the different situations they had found themselves in and how they would have acted to their new companions; how Bethany would have blushed and stuttered under Isabela's flirtations and Wesley would have constantly chastised but secretly loved little Merrill like a sister. And it was with these fanciful images in her mind that Hawke finally submitted and found some well deserved rest.

Aveline moved out from under the mage without waking her and recovered her with the blanket. Pulling her armour back on and taking one last glance at friend she smiled at the serene look the mage's face and exited the room closing the door quietly behind her.

Aveline walked into the living room and couldn't help but coo at the sight that welcomed her; Isabela and Merrill had fallen asleep cuddled up together on one of the chairs, Merrill on Isabela's lap, content grins on their faces and their arms wrapped around each other in a chaste hug. Aveline realised in that moment that the Merrill was Isabela's saving grace. She had taken on a sisterly role in the elf's life and although Aveline worried about Isabela's influence on the impressionable mage she knew that Isabela would always protect and care for Merrill. It was very strange that in a city rife with crime and poverty Merrill had never been mugged until tonight and that despite constantly leaving her door wide open her house had never been robbed; the Guard Captain had a strong suspicion that Isabela was behind the elf's good fortune. That was something that Aveline could relate too. Isabela was protective over all for her friends but unlike Aveline, Isabela would always put herself first but her friends came a very close second. Aveline gently shook the sleeping Isabela shoulders and called to her quietly in her ear trying to gently wake her.

Isabela eyes snapped open and the surprised rogue screamed in the Guard Captain's face jumping up and dropping the poor mage onto the floor with a bump.

"And here's me thinking that you would be used to waking up in the company of other people slattern," Aveline laughed helping Merrill to stand up.

"I have sex with them prig I don't sleep with them," Isabela yawned with a stretch. "I have a strict no sleepover rule." (It was the third of Isabela's rules).

"Well I've very honoured that you chose to break your rule for a sleep over at my house," Merrill said with sincerity while rubbing her damaged posterior.

"Thank you Merrill," Isabela smiled fondly down at the elf wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulder.

"And I'm also very honoured that I'm one of the few people in Kirkwall that you haven't tried to have sex with. You must really like me," Merrill beamed up at her friend.

"Errrrrmmm thank you Merrill," the pirate responded unsure whether or not the elf had meant it to be a compliment.

"You're welcome."

Aveline laughed. Tonight really had been full of surprises. If someone had told her this morning that she would have enjoyed a 'girl's night out' at the Hanged man and with companions that included Isabela she would have laughed in their faces, or at least given them her most despondent stare. But she really had enjoyed herself and they had needed some revelry, Hawke more than any of them. Aveline knew better than anyone how it felt to keep your emotions bottled up. Their leader was a very proud and private person and if getting her to open up and find some relief meant getting her drunk then so be it. "Same time next month?" Aveline inquired pleased when a grinning Isabela and Merrill simply nodded the affirmative.

"Come on Isabela. I'm not leaving you here." Aveline grabbed the rogue's wrist and began to drag her towards Merrill's door. She may have been able to tolerate the pirate's company tonight but that didn't mean she trusted her enough to leave her with an inebriated Hawke.

Isabela groaned disappointedly before turning and quickly giving Merrill some advice as she was being towed away by the warrior, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do and believe me that's not much and you do know what to do if it becomes too cold?" she asked as Aveline opened Merrill's front door.

"No," Merrill said worriedly wondering if there was some Shemlin etiquette she was unaware of for dealing with cold nights.

"Well first you get naked and then you get her naked and..."

"Goodnight Merrill and thank you," Aveline interrupted throwing the pirate out of the open door and as far away as possible from the blushing elf.

Aveline closed the door behind her leaving her alone with an unamused pirate irritated that her entertainment had ended so suddenly.

"If you go back in there I'll know about it," Aveline promised as she turned her attention to buckle one of her loose gauntlets.

"Oh please," Isabela scoffed derisively tilting her hips and folding her arms across her chest. "If I had wanted Hawke I would have taken her," Isabela guaranteed. "Besides, I need to read up on Ferrelden practices first," Isabela continued thinking back to the tavern with Hawke's whispers in her ears _"Who would think to use stamina position in such a way, it's ingenious really,_"she mused aloud stroking her chin thoughtfully. _It's bad enough taking orders from her on the battle field without submitting to her in my field of expertise_ and I refuse to be topped by her," she vehemently pledged to herself.

Isabela's eyes wandered back to the warrior who was completely ignoring the pirate as she hummed happily adjusting the straps at her wrist. Aveline had missed this feeling of serenity and liberation that came with such security; she had friends, she had a family and Hawke and herself had finally lifted that shadow that had always hung around their friendship. Her tranquillity was broken by a loud chuckle from her companion. She looked up inquiring and froze in shock as Isabela closed the distance between them placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. The smirking pirate pulled back laughing at the warrior's expression and gave the red-head a friendly pat on her shoulder before she skipped away from the stunned warrior her laughter fading as she disappeared into dark alleys.

Aveline was left perplexed by the pirate's exultant laughter._ 'Had this been Isabela's plan all along?' _She wondered suddenly. Perhaps Isabela has known exactly what Hawke needed to bring her out of her depression and constructed the entire evening; getting Hawke drunk, sending the message to Aveline, the goading, the teasing, her flirtations with Hawke; each step a careful manipulation of Aveline's protective nature in order to ensure that Hawke and Aveline ended the night at Merrill's and finally opened up to one another.

Aveline shook her head and chuckled to herself at such whimsy, as if the self-centred pirate had nothing but her own self-interests at heart.

The sun had just began to rise over Kirkwall and Aveline always appreciated this moment of silence as the city seemed to momentarily hold its breath waiting for the people of Kirwall to awake and breathe life into the streets. The vhenadahl cast its shadow across the alienage as it interrupted the red light of the sunrise but it didn't feel oppressive but assuring that life could exist and overshadow everything even the cold dead stone of Kirkwall.

Life had to be lived. She couldn't take the responsibility from Hawke and if was completely honest with herself she needed to place even more on the mage. If Aveline wanted to bring peace and justice to Kirkwall then she needed Hawke's influence with the Viscount when she became a lady of Kirkwall, and she needed her leadership and companions to do the questionable tasks that lay on the edges of her jurisdiction. Hawke also wanted peace for the people of Kirkwall but it didn't make Aveline feel any less guilty. She couldn't take the responsibility from her but she could be a better friend, her confident, her rock to lean on and she could show her how live again.

Life had to be lived and Wesley did not give his life only for her life to end. Since she died time had passed but she just been mindlessly progressing through the motions of life; eating, working, sleeping, dulled to experience anything and always with a feeling that she was waiting for something. She had to accept that it would never happen and tonight was her first step. She silently thanked her husband for everything before and after and with a new determination in her step marched back towards the barracks.

* * *

Hope you liked it. Next story in this arch is about the development of Isabela and Hawke's relationship.

Please R & R and make me happy.


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